


BEER CANN DICC

by goldengan



Series: Hope You Enjoyed the Plotless [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, Face-Fucking, M/M, Overstimulation, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Robot Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Spit Kink, Sweat, sweat kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 15:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengan/pseuds/goldengan
Summary: Living together brings new things to light that Connor never expected. With each passing day it’s becoming more and more obvious that Hank has sexual feelings for him. Connor isn’t sure how to tell Hank that he wishes to reciprocate those feelings.Badly.~A pwp where Connor can't get enough of Hank's thicc dique.





	BEER CANN DICC

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow HankCon fuckers! I'm back and butter than ever. Especially because I've never left!
> 
> Here's a NEED TO KNOW before you begin reading:
> 
> I’ve decided Hank’s bed is really tall (my memory says it is in game but my memory is quite shit) just because I want a thing to happen. Just accept it and we can move on and be horny together, okay?
> 
> Also, this was inspired by my twitter jericho buddies who helped spawn this beautiful disaster. Especially [rk8oo_connor](https://twitter.com/rk8oo_connor) who wrote [this fabulous tweet](https://twitter.com/i/web/status/1040624195305127936) and I RAN with it!
> 
> ♥️enjoy♥️

The curtains are open to the dark day as rain hums fast against the roof. Hank was lucky to arrive home just before the downpour that began fifteen minutes ago. Connor was cleaning the dishes when he entered but, as was customary, Hank stopped him. Now Hank’s muttering to himself in the kitchen, drying off and putting dishes away while Connor stands in the divide between the kitchen and the living room. Fidgeting with his hands.

A plate clatters, circling on its edges before settling firmly and face down on the ground. Hank says nothing throughout, watching the whole event take place with a straight back and thinned eyes. If he dropped the plates he had when Connor first began living with him, they definitely would have shattered. Connor was tired of watching Hank use the plates and bowls that were chipped with decades of carelessness. So Connor purchased a durable glassware that boasted unbreakable. If Hank was in a better mood, Connor would point this out, but that seemed ill advised at the moment. 

“Here,” Connor moved to the plate within a few steps, bending over just in front of Hank to pick it up. His sensors dinged as Hank’s vitals shot up quick. Connor kept his face neutral, just in case, as he hands the plate back to Hank, “Why don’t you let me take care of the rest?”

Hank nodded, swallowing thickly as he walks to the couch. 

Living together brings new things to light that Connor never expected. With each passing day it’s becoming more and more obvious that Hank has sexual feelings for him. Connor isn’t sure how to tell Hank that he wishes to reciprocate those feelings. 

Badly.

* * *

Connor didn’t expect the July heat to take a toll on him as much as it did. Barely outside for more than five minutes, Connor’s biocomponents were blaring in his mind palace, overheating and requesting repose from the stupid sun.

Hank hisses at the touch of the doorknob but is quick to throw open the door and run to the thermostat. Connor locks the door behind them as the air clicks on at full blast. Sumo is whining, poor thing, not truly understanding the weather outside from being in a nice, cool, room temperature house all day. Both Hank and Sumo look to Connor expectantly. Connor sighs, running a diagnostic on what he can do to cool off quick. The answer is simple enough, removal of his suit jacket. 

As he’s hanging the offending material on the coat rack, Hank exclaims, “Jesus, Connor!” Connor was fully aware of the phenomena of humans shouting through any discomfort. For Hank, heat seemed to trigger this response the most often. “That shirt is way too thin to be worn by itself! It’s practically see through!” 

Connor isn’t sure why this matters. “Okay?” He says while picking up the leash. 

“I just mean… wait, is that sweat?”

“Yes,” Connor says slow, clicking the clasp onto Sumo’s collar. “It works the same as human sweat.”

“So… You’re hot right now?”

“It’s nearly one hundred degrees Fahrenheit with more than eighty percent humidity, who isn’t?”

Hank scoffs, his eyes traveling along Connor’s body, his heartrate rising throughout their conversation. 

Connor felt a bit irritated, he just wanted to let the dog out to relieve himself so Connor could cool off, but Hank was behaving abnormally at a monotonous situation. 

“That settles it. We need to get you more clothes.” Hank’s following Connor to the door, voice still loud as Connor unlocks the deadbolt, “If I’d know you being in a suit was that uncomfortable I would have said something a while back.”

Hank doesn’t follow Connor outside, which Connor expected. Sumo’s pulling on the lead as Connor closes the door behind him when Hank says, inaudible to a human, “It’ll be nice to see you in something else.” When Connor looks over his shoulder they locked eyes, his sensors indicate Hank’s pupils have dilated a significant amount. 

Still annoyed, and not knowing what to say, Connor shuts the door behind him.

* * *

Connor didn’t know being in a romantic relationship would be this difficult. 

There were so many nuances. How did humans remember, and especially navigate, all these arbitrary rules without at least a terabyte of hard drive? When was the correct time to talk to Hank? The answer seemed to depend on if it was sexual, romantic, or conversational in nature. But, mostly, it was entirely dependent on Hank’s mood. Connor understood that work was no place for a romantic or sexual encounter; his programming was quite specific on that and little else. Hank, on the other hand, kept stealing glances that heated Connor to his core. Kept running one of his hands along the small of Connor’s back, along his shoulders, at the root of his neck. Would lean closer than necessary and use the lower end of his vocal range to speak. Connor had no idea how to broach the situation. Hank had admonished him in the past about being too obvious and inexperienced. Granted, he wasn’t referring to their new relationship, just in general and far before they even had sex, but it still weighed on Connor nonetheless. 

“Something on your mind?”

“No.” Well that was too quick of an answer. 

Hank noticed this, of course, and crossed his arms while asking, “Are you positive?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Connor clipped, “The day’s almost done. I’m eager to go home.”

Hank hummed, thinning his eyes; his own version of scanning. After forty-three seconds of Hank staring while Connor continued working, Hank turned back to his terminal with a shrug. 

The last thing Connor needed to do for the day was review the evidence in the lockup downstairs. He told Hank as much as he tucked in his chair and walked away. 

In the hallway leading up to his destination, Connor’s proximity sensors indicated that Hank was behind him. Connor didn’t think much of it and continued forward, going so far as to hold the door open for Hank. When Hank reached for the door, Connor gave a small smile. It held a lot of meaning but, without telling Hank exactly what he was feeling, he wasn’t sure Hank could even venture a guess. After all, Hank didn’t know much of android physiology. 

Once they both were situated inside the lockup, Hank lunged at Connor. He pressed his chest and stomach into Connor’s back, forcing Connor against the door, and held Connor’s hands above his head. The cold of the glass and the heat of Hank’s hands already enough to send Connor copious error messages. 

“I’ve wanted to do this all day.” He said, lips on Connor’s nape sending shivers that he didn’t know he could receive. “Now that I’ve seen you split on my cock, I can’t imagine you anywhere else.”

When Connor and Hank first began expressing intimacy in their relationship, Connor researched how couples expressed sexual longing. It was… difficult and mostly filled with pornography, but one thing in particular seemed to ring true: dirty talk. Hyperbolic but insanely to the point. Connor found it a bit off-putting at first. But, then again, anything that came from Hank’s mouth had the capacity to make Connor’s biocomponents overheat. And so, with little other choice, Connor squirmed underneath Hank. Jutting his ass out, hoping to feel Hank’s dick. 

But then, as quickly as it began, Hank pulled away and took a step back. He tucked his length into the waistband of his pants and pulled the door open which left Connor to scramble out of the way. When Hank was out of the room, Connor let the door close. He still had a task to complete. Even if his mind was a bit occupied… 

One hour and twelve minutes since the incident and Hank hadn’t made a comment. Didn’t even hint that anything had happened at all. 

Connor went into the kitchen to clean and get his mind off of what wasn’t going to happen. But… But it didn’t make any sense. Not one bit! Why wasn’t Hank looking at Connor? Why didn’t Hank pay him any attention since work? His vitals were fine, all at perfectly healthy levels. 

There was an easy answer. His program told him as much. Before Connor’s deviancy he would have just gone over there and talked with Hank, but therein lied the problem. Now Connor had unwieldy and, what often felt like, nonsensical emotions. In this exact situation, Connor was actually frightened of all of the feelings that bubbled over inside of him. He never imagined that allowing himself to be this open, this literal intimacy of these new parts of himself, would be so utterly terrifying. 

Connor stands still. Staring at the sink. Body vibrating slightly as he’s clenching his hands on the lip of the sink. 

After a few minutes of anger, Connor is offered another answer: perhaps Connor needed to prove his desire for Hank.

That thought held weight, had tasks attached to it, and it had the added benefit of feeling like the right thing to do. Hank had called it a “gut feeling”. Yes, this could work. 

Connor entered their bedroom and sorted through his clothing. If Connor pulled this off, Hank wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off him. He shivered at the hope.

Once Connor’s back in the kitchen, he starts putting away dishes. After a few minutes of studying Hank from the corner of his eye, Connor drops a plate. On purpose. 

Hank turns his head to look at him. Finally. Connor walks to the other side of the dishwasher and bends over so his ass is in Hank’s vision. The reaction Connor receives is as immediate as humanly possible. 

Hank’s hands are on Connor’s hips as he pushes his flagging cock to Connor’s ass. 

“Why are you dressed like this?” Hank all but growls. His thumbs resting on the dimples on Connor’s lower back. 

“I… I wanted to get comfortable.”

“Bullshit,” Hank’s quick to grab Connor and bend him over the kitchen counter, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Connor’s mouth fills with thirium spit, his body reacting to past encounters. 

“Say it.” Hank’s biting and harsh tone an antithesis to his warm hands that creep up Connor’s back, under his shirt, “Say you dressed slutty so I’d fuck you.”

Connor’s not wearing much. The boxer briefs Hank made him buy -- “You seriously don’t wear underwear?” Hank’s tone was harsh, but his fingers twitched and his heart raced – and that thin, offending dress shirt Hank pretended to hate. Connor shakes his head, denying. It’s all he can bring himself to do. 

“Oh, I remember.” One of Hank’s hands drags sweetly along Connor’s spine, until he’s on the waistband of his underwear, his other hand gripping tight around Connor’s hip. “You wanted me to use your mouth for, fuck what did you say, “my pleasure”? Is that what you’re after?”

His systems registers an increase of lubricant exiting his anus and fully hardened cock.

“You can’t keep quiet, Connor,” Hank said as he parted his hips from Connor’s ass. He kept his hand on Connor’s hip, at least. “Tell me what you want.” His voice soft, pleading. 

With his cheek flat against the counter, Connor can feel his thirium-saliva falling between his open lips. His neck craning just enough to see Hank’s face, ruddy like he was embarrassed, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. Connor checked and his heartrate was still elevated. Erection indicating it wasn’t out of anger but pure arousal.

The problem was Connor’s mind was blanking. His systems weren’t created to be used like this. The Traci’s had failsafe’s, processes that made sure that they wouldn’t completely shut down if they became too overheated. And it wasn’t only overheating Connor had to worry about, he had an added function that most androids didn’t: he analyzed samples in real time. It wasn’t just his tongue and mouth, any foreign object that touched his skin would be examined. Didn’t matter how many times it was analyzed before, he would run a diagnostic with each and every touch. Connor had checked and triple checked, there was no way to turn that function off. 

Eleven seconds pass and Connor finally understands what Hank asked him. He knows exactly what to say to prove himself to his partner.

“I’m so wet, Hank.” The voice that leaves him already sounds wracked and used. Being on edge all day the obvious culprit. 

“That desperate, huh?”

In the time Connor takes to blink, Hank is on his knees, his fingers pulling Connor’s briefs down. His hands rough as he pushes Connor’s thighs apart, places a single thick finger on his slick hole. 

“You’re wet just from this?”

Connor feels his chest move, a laugh he can’t control, “You’ve been staring at me all day, Hank.” 

“A man can’t look at his boyfriend?” He traces his finger around Connor’s entrance. 

Connor writhes under the touch, an easy moan sliding from his lips. 

“God, Connor, you’re so beautiful like this.”

Connor looks back, his lips parted, wanting to see for himself what Hank would do next. Hank’s lips upturn, the gap between his front teeth visible. Hank moves himself closer to Connor, breath ghosting over his wet entrance. 

“Oh, Hank.” His eyelashes flutter. 

Then, with no more preamble, Hank slides his tongue over Connor’s hole.

Connor struggles to see, his fluttering eyelids and shaking body blurring his vision. He’s thrusting down to push his dick against the cabinets, thrusting up to Hank’s mouth, his body unsure which pleasure to chase. Connor’s pants are quickly turning into moans even though Hank is slow to start. 

“Fuck, Connor,” he whispers against him, a hand moves to Connor’s dick, fingers on the head, pressing into the slit. 

Connor’s eyes go wide at the feeling. Errors stack, telling him that he’s overheated and overloaded with redundant information. He minimizes the windows and turns his head to see Hank better. 

Connor watches as Hank’s tongue laps and teases, his hand now fully enveloping Connor’s leaking cock. He’s not moving his hand at all, letting Connor fuck himself on his loose grip. 

“Please, Hank, please.” His voice is static and tin, couldn’t help it even if he wanted to. 

Hank’s fingers brush against Connor’s balls, already taut against his body. “Tell me what you want, sweet thing.”

“Fuck me with your tongue.” Connor says with no hesitation. 

“Oh,” Hank kisses along his cleft, removes his hand from Connor’s cock to help pull Connor apart, “with pleasure.”

Hank’s tongue enters Connor with minimal effort, his hands kneading Connor’s ass while he works himself deep. The bristle of Hank’s beard registers as a dull pain in Connor’s systems. It’s both a perfect description and entirely inaccurate. Too confused to make sense of the thought, Connor pushes his ass into Hank’s face. Hank growls, the vibration pulls a moan from Connor’s chest, unbidden. 

Connor’s babbling now. He can feel his mouth moving but his audio processor doesn’t pick up his words. Connor can only hear Hank. His groans, the scratching of beard against artificial flesh, and the insanely wet sounds of his tongue fucking Connor senseless. 

“You can’t help those noises, can you Connor?” 

When Connor doesn’t answer with words and pushes his ass towards Hank’s face once again, Hank hums, thrusting his tongue inside Connor’s sloppy ass. When a finger joins and crooks up, Connor’s worried for his voice modulator. He feels the strain but still can’t hear. Hank must make sense of him as he pulls out his tongue to say, “I know, baby, I know.” 

When a second finger enters, Connor’s eyes roll up, no longer capable of stopping the error messages. When the errors fully clogged his mind palace last time, Connor made sure to set boundaries. Although his optical unit was blurry from over-blinking, Hank was framed by the messages in Connor’s vision. Connor wished he could show Hank. He’d find it funny.

A prompt enters just in front of Hank’s face, asking if Connor wants to stretch himself. Hank loves how tight he is; he’s said so on numerous occasions. Connor has to physically move his hand, damp with saliva, to close the prompt.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” 

Hank’s fingers pumping in and out of Connor are creating such obscene sounds, he can barely hear Hank. Connor doesn’t know what he does or what he says in response, but whatever he did causes Hank to deliberately push his fingers against Connor’s faux-prostate. His senses fizzle out one by one. His vision is only a blinding white and his hearing is dulled, but tactile is amplified and rising exponentially all thanks to Hank until pure pleasure is all his body knows. It overtakes him completely. When his neck and arms and legs and back strain and tense, he cums onto the cabinets. Then his body and systems slacken, finally knowing complete peace.

It takes a few moments for Connor’s world to blink back into existence. 

The first thing he sees is the living room, then the hallway. But Connor’s having trouble controlling his limbs. How is he moving right now? 

When Connor moves his head to the right, he sees Hank. Or, more accurately, he sees Hank’s chest and neck. The perspiration darkening Hank’s grey t-shirt matches and meets Connor’s damp dress shirt. An emotion Connor can’t name blooms as Hank carries him to their room easily. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Hank starts as he lays Connor on the bed, his neck and head cradled by the pillows so he can see Hank easily, even when he walks to the other side of the room, sliding off his shirt. “but why you drooling so much?”

“I can…” Connor blinks, waiting for his vision to completely clear, and to fully digest what Hank just asked. Hank’s pulling off his clothing while Connor tries to complete his sentence. “I can… set up automatic responses to certain stimuli.”

Hank drops his pants on top of the discarded shirt and gives Connor a look that is now shorthand for “in English, please?”

“I wanted to be wet for you the next time I had you in my mouth.”

Hank stops, his boxers around his ankles. “You liked it that much?”

“Are you really surprised?”

Hank laughs as he kicks his boxers to the other clothes, “Jesus fuck Connor, you really do have an oral fixation huh?” 

Limbs usable again, Connor pulls himself on his elbows to say, “I can show you.”

With minimal fumbling on Connor’s part, he lies on his stomach, his neck and throat pressed against the edge of the bed, letting his mouth hang open easily. Hank’s just a foot away from him, Connor feels the heat radiating off his body. 

“If it’s too much, just tap on my thigh, alright?” 

He remembers: Two taps to stop and one tap to go. Connor tilts his head up, eyes big and wide, to nod at Hank.

His tongue instantly analyzes Hank’s precum, his foreskin, his sweat. The weight of Hank’s thickness heavy in his mouth and stretching his artificial skin at the seams. Thirium spit pooling around his lips, falling to the bed below. Hank had simply entered his mouth, allowing time for both to accommodate. Connor’s dick is already hard. He pushes his hips against the bed, his moan impatient. Hank whimpers low at the vibration, covering Connor’s ears with his hands, tugging gently. 

“Alright, kitten?”

Connor braces his hands around Hank’s thighs. He taps once. 

Hank begins slow. His sighs breathy and quick above Connor. He’s already so close, Connor can tell, especially now that he’s in Connor’s wet mouth. Hank said he never had a proper blowjob until Connor, that no one else could handle him completely. It was a sad admission, even though Hank brushed it off when Connor said as much, but it was obvious that Hank was looking forward to more. Activating his salivary processes when they fucked was the least Connor could do and he did it happily.

Connor taps once again. Hank breathes a quick chuckle. 

“So pushy.”

Connor knew he loved it. 

Hank quickens his pace. His balls hitting Connor’s chin. The combination of Connor’s spit and Hank’s pre-ejaculate create the wettest, sloppiest sounds that resonate throughout Connor’s body and pool in his cock that’s also wet against the bed. 

“I know… you wanna say somethin’… you chatty fuck.” Hank admonished between his thrusts and his panting. “If I’d known… you’d like this? That you’d take it… so well?” Hank runs his thumb over Connor’s hollowed cheek, “I’d’ve fucked your mouth… when we… first met.”

Connor digs his fingers into Hank’s thighs as he humps the bed, his artificial cum pooling between the sheet and his cock. Knowing it’ll push Hank over the edge, and not able to stop himself really, Connor moans and sobs around Hank’s cock, his practiced tongue coiling along that thick vein. 

In one swift motion, Hank pulls out of Connor’s mouth. Slick falls to the ground as Connor groans and wants to protest, but knows his voice modulator will be static until it can make repairs. 

“Didn’t wanna cum in your mouth this time.”

Hank maneuvers them both onto the bed. One of his hands digging into Connor’s hip, holding his ass up, while the other hand threads through Connor’s hair, pushing his spit slick face onto the bed.

“Wanted to fuck your pretty ass.” He pushes his slopping wet dick onto Connor’s still slick hole. “Any objections?”

Connor shakes his head, not caring if he looked too needy. 

With a grunt Hank glides inside Connor, meeting minimal resistance.

Hank offers no preamble this time and fucks Connor shamelessly, his pace relentless. 

Connor is soaking wet everywhere: his mouth continues to salivate, his ass continues to leak lubricant, his body continues to perspire. His mouth is open wide as his lungs gasp for air, begging his biocomponents to cool. Connor can’t see Hank from this position, so he allowed the errors to run wild, completely blocking his vision. 

Hank leans closer, his sweaty chest against Connor’s lower back, “So beautiful… like this…”

Connor can feel Hank’s cock pulse out his ejaculate long before Hank’s thrusts slow. He has no choice but to allow his systems to soft reboot.

* * *

It’s just past nine in the morning and rain buzzes against the roof of the precinct. Everyone inside, human and android, is irritable. They’re all soaking wet or cold or annoyed or cranky. Overall, it’s an awful day. 

Connor didn’t fall into that category, however. And, judging by his demeanor this morning, neither did Hank. 

They barely arrived, sitting across from each other in their assigned desks, when Connor felt that telltale heat on his neck. Connor turned to find Hank staring at him. 

“Are you feeling alright today, Lieutenant?”

Hank smiles, leaning back in his chair, “Yeah, never better.” 

His eyes linger on Connor’s mouth. 

Connor excuses himself to the restroom, keeping his mouth closed and hoping no one notices. 

After two minutes, Hank follows and meets Connor in the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> You can always tell exactly what someone kink is, huh? Like you see fanart and there's a meticulously drawn foot and you're like "oh shit they're a foot fucker." Well I'm perfectly aware that I'm no exception lmao When I was editing I was crying with laughter at how obvious it is! Whoops~
> 
> you can follow me on my twitter [goldenganjj](https://twitter.com/goldenganjj) for fic updates and fandom nonsense. I'm in love with Hank Anderson's massive dong and I don't care who knows it


End file.
